


The Board

by songspinner9



Series: Bitty's Bakery [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, M/M, crossover with Avengers, various Avengers show up every other chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songspinner9/pseuds/songspinner9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty's new and popular bakery had a lot of customers: many from the neighborhood, some from his extended family, and a few who were finding it to be a good stopping-off place to visit and find something nourishing in addition to all the pie. (in the 'verse started in "A Sweeter Refuge", in which some members of the Avengers discover the bakery)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Check, Please! and all its wonderful characters belong to Ngozi.

Jack took a lot of photographs over the first few days. 

_“Jack, for goodness’ sake, I’m just organizing the spices! There’s no need to document everything…this can’t possibly be interesting!”_

He was intensely proud of Bitty and what the younger man had accomplished since graduation, and he loved finding quiet ways to show that. So any time he found a couple of hours to visit the bakery, Jack never did stop taking pictures at what he found to be the right moments. 

It became something of a running joke among the bakery’s customers and employees (who don’t necessarily all follow hockey news but now knew anyway when the Falconers were between games or the season was over), but they didn’t mind since Jack always asked permission and respected those who declined. 

One wall had a huge empty space. At Lardo’s suggestion, Bitty bought a big corkboard and some decorative pushpins, and Jack started putting up pictures as a collage. As the bakery slowly became a neighborhood fixture, it became something of an honor to be up on The Board (hockey jokes about boards aside). Both regulars and special guests often stopped to find themselves in the ever-growing collection...


	2. The Good Sort of Messy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holster brings a couple of people to the bakery who are important to him. It may not go quite as planned, but he can't say it really goes badly.

1.  
_A photo of a girl, about two years old, dressed in a set of denim overalls and green t-shirt with her blonde hair in two pigtails. She has a huge smile and is trying to stuff an entire cookie in her mouth, chocolate smearing her entire face and crumbs dropping everywhere._

“Holster, how many of those do you want to take home?” Bitty called across the bakery, laughter in his voice.

“Bitty, are you trying to get my sister to disown me?” Holster yelled back between giggles, desperately trying to clean his niece’s chocolate-covered face. “Just a couple hours on our own so she’d get a break. A nice little visit and a treat.” 

“I did suggest the fruit thumbprint cookies, you know.” 

“Cookies!” The tiny girl crowed in delight at the suggestion, licking her fingers, and then patting her uncle’s glasses. He groaned in frustration, putting her down to clean off the lenses.

“Yeah, cookies.” Their companion for the afternoon chortled in echo of the toddler.

“Shut up, Rans.” 

“Now, c’mon, be nice in front of Mara.” Ransom took a sip of his coffee and then froze at the look of mischievous glee on his friend’s face. Also, at the glob of chocolate on his fingers now being extended in his direction. “Wait….aw, Holster, not my face! Hmmm, this tastes really good. Maybe I should get a couple dozen of those.”

“We need a picture of this, Bits.” Jack lifted his camera and quickly shot a couple frames. “Don’t worry, Holster, you’re not in all of these. She’s much cuter.”

One blonde eyebrow was raised in his direction. “Really? That’s what you’re going with? Seriously, bro?”

“It’s okay,” Ransom interrupted them, having gotten the chocolate off his nose. “I’m pretty sure Mara loves you no matter what your face looks like. You’re the cool uncle.”

“Absolutely.” Jack put in, with a mostly straight face. “The coolest.” That last was said as he got a couple more photos and put the camera down to pick up Mara and twirl her around. 

“Jack, you’re gonna get covered in chocolate, too, y’know.” Holster eventually moved to take his niece back, muttering in Jack’s ear, “I can get copies of those, yeah?”


	3. Connecting Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Steve visited by himself. And do bakers and bartenders have anything in common?

2.  
_A black-and-white photo close-up of an artist in the process of drawing a portrait of a woman; the man’s knuckles are marked with healing wounds and a few scratches criss-cross the back of the broad hand. In the sketch, the subject is bent over a stove, smiling up at the viewer while cooking something in a large pot._

“It was usually a bartender.”

“Who was?” Bitty put down the refilled cup of coffee and slid another slice of pie onto the plate, and looked with confusion at Steve Rogers. The leader of the Avengers was here on his own this time, and Bitty had let one of his employees take his order. 

He’d kept one eye on him, though. The man had a lot of bruises and cuts still healing, and a certain expression today that reminded him all too much of one of Jack’s bad days.

With a little sigh, Steve took a bite of pie and laid his free hand absently on his closed sketchbook. “The guy who’d sweet-talk you into spilling all your troubles to him. Pretty sure that still happens now, and I noticed you talking to that woman who came in earlier…but…well, it’s not like a lot of people had all that therapy stuff when…back then.”

Bitty nodded and leaned one hip against the counter. “I’d say pie is less addicting than alcohol, but given that y’all show up any time you’re in town…”

He was pleased to see a tiny smile on Steve’s face, grateful that his cue was taken correctly. Unfortunately, it was short-lived.

“I always like your pie, Eric. And it’s been a long few days.” Steve’s voice cracked a little.

“Hey…” Bitty cocked his head to the side in concern. “Do you…I mean, you don’t have to tell me if it’s some big Avengers’ secret or anything but Lord knows, I can keep one of those.”

There was a little snort of irony and acknowledgement of that truth, and then Steve ducked his head down a little over his plate. “Sorry.”

“Nope,” Bitty declared firmly. “No apologies for having an awful day. Or days. That’s a rule around here. So’s the part where you don’t have to talk until y’all are ready to talk.” 

He looked at the other man silently for a moment and it was painfully obvious that this was Steve Rogers in front of him and not Captain America. It was very much like the days when he saw Jack’s transformation after a difficult day – walking through their front door and moving from leader to simply a very tired man, weighed down anxiety and sadness.

“Okay. Look – and I actually mean, look, Rogers. Over at the board.” He pointed one hand in the direction of the photo collage, keeping it up until he saw blue eyes glance up at the wall. “Jack-the-photographer sometimes keeps Jack-the-team- Captain in one mental piece. Have you read anything about him? His past?”

Steve shrugged a little. “A couple of articles. They mentioned what he went through a while back.”

“A lot. That’s what he went through. A lot. And he’s been pretty open in interviews lately about the overdose and the anxiety stuff. There’s not a lot he can do to stop anxiety from happening.” 

Bitty’s eyes closed for a moment, remembering an evening a few weeks before that ended up with a lot of tears, and Jack being the little spoon for an hour or three. “Good days and bad. But he can…he can be creative to heal a bit. I just stress bake. You can ask Jack or my mama.” He let out a little self-deprecating snort. “Or Jack’s maman.”

“Okay? So?” The fork Steve had been fiddling with suddenly snapped in half, and he looked at Bitty in wordless apology. 

Well, Bitty wasn’t having any of that right now as he carefully reached to teach the two pieces away from Steve and tuck them into his apron pocket. “Don’t you worry about that. You know how many times I’ve seen angry hockey players break things in my kitchen by accident? Bulls in china shops, the lot of ‘em. So draw. You’ve been holding onto that sketchbook for an hour now. All ‘ya got left on the plate is crumbs. Whatever you’ve got gut-punching you right now, draw. I’ll let you be for a while and make sure everyone else does. Let me know if you need anything, sugar.” Bitty reached over to gently pat Steve’s arm and moved back down the counter to check how things were going at the register. 

Slowly, Steve opened the pad of paper to some random blank page. And through the quiet after the bakery post-lunch rush, Bitty could hear as a pencil started stroking over the paper. 

Busying himself setting up for the sudden influx of customers he was expecting staring around 4:00 or so, he looked up finally to see Jack entering, camera in hand. ‘Hey, sweetheart.” 

He leaned up for a kiss, lingering a little with his mouth curving into a smile against Jack’s. 

“I see you have company.” Jack remarked softly, putting his bag down to turn the kiss into a hug. 

“Yes, but we’re letting him alone until he’s ready.” Bitty’s serious tone made Jack take a second look. “I know, he looks like hell.”

“Well, he’s safe here, Bits.”

“I know, love. Just give him a while ‘till he feels it.” He pulled away to organize some pies in the display case. He saw Jack take a few photos around the bakery, sign an autograph for a wide-eyed boy with a hockey snapback, and end up perched on the stool next to Steve’s.

Bitty watched fondly as Jack waited patiently for Steve to notice his presence. There were some quiet words exchanged after a while, and Steve flipped a couple of pages to show Jack. And after some more discussion, Jack flipped his camera around to the display screen and returned the favor to let Steve examine the pictures just taken. 

Deciding it was probably the right timing, Bitty finally walked back over and peered around and over two sets of broad shoulders. The sketch on the page still face-up on the table was heartbreaking: a mother and child lying in the rubble of a broken building Bitty thought he recognized from last night’s news broadcast. 

But when he looked at the view screen on the camera still tilted in his direction, it was a photo of Steve’s hand in mid-sketch. Jack must have taken it during their conversation in the last few minutes. The picture was of someone Bitty strongly suspected was Steve’s mother, standing over a stovetop; the clothing was clearly not modern and the woman’s face was kind and weary. The eyes seemed very familiar, even illustrated in the dusty grey swoops of pencil lead. 

“Your mama?” Bitty kept his voice even and warm. 

“Mmm-hmm.” 

"My MooMaw had a stockpot like that one. It's gotten passed down a couple of generations now. Still works better than half the stuff I see advertised." 

The lines of tension had eased on Steve’s face and he carefully turned the page of the sketchbook to reveal the matching image on Jack’s camera. “It’s hard to…it’s hard to remember so much. Once I had the serum in me, and I changed, I had an eidetic memory. Used to drive the Commandoes nuts, that I could see something once and remember everything.”

“Handy under the circumstance, though.” Jack commented. “Or maybe not so much anymore.”

Steve let one finger trace over the lines of the portrait in the air just above the paper. “It can hurt a lot, but right now, I guess it helps to put that memory in front of the…the other ones. I’m not sure if that made any sense?”

“It did make sense, trust us.” Bitty’s hand grasped Jack’s and he twined their fingers together. “Feeling better, though?” 

The sketchbook was closed with an emphatic little thump. “Yeah. The pie helped, too. ” Steve looked down at Bitty, looking a lot better than when he’d come in. “Put that one up on the Board, Zimmerman. That way, other people can see her, too. Can I get a couple of pies to take back, please? I think I have a few friends who need to feel better, too.”

Bitty got pulled sideways into a quick hug. “Of course. I’m glad we could help.” He wasn’t sure what Jack had said to this man, who looked simultaneously so young and so old today, but he didn’t mind it staying just between them. The picture, once it was up on the Board, could speak for both of them just fine.


	4. Celly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not just that the bakery is part of the neighborhood; it's also that the baker got sort of adopted, too. And also the baker's boyfriend, of course.

3\. 

_A photo full of blurred hands and lots of grins – this one is an image of a group of girls crowded around one of the tables, on chairs and stools, and a couple of them standing. They are all wearing matching green hockey jerseys for the local high school and are clearly in the middle of demolishing several pies to celebrate the trophy that sits next to what is left of the pastry._

“Chef! Did you and Mr. Z see this?” One of the girls held up the hockey trophy, waving it excitedly in Bitty’s direction and causing one of her friends to duck away from the heavy object with a squeak.

“I did in fact see it, darlin'. Kinda hard to miss when y’all came in here hoisting it above your heads like the Stanley Cup! Congratulations! And I'm glad you chose to come here.” 

“Well,” she said with pride, “It’s not like we could go somewhere else – you were a hockey player and everything in college, right, and then there’s your guy, here.”

Jack grinned back at her. “Got a bunch of pictures already. Should I send them to your coach?”

“Ooooh…yes, please.” A second girl tucked a stray curl back underneath her hijab and held up her phone. “I’ve got her info here and I could help put it on the website. Action pictures during the game are great, but it would be lovely to have some celebration photos.”

“Sounds like I should be hiring you to help with the bakery website, Maryam.” Bitty called over to them as Jack quickly typed the coach’s email into his own phone. “Vlogging is not the same as setting up webpages. Come by after school someday soon, will ‘ya? And Jack, have them choose one for you to print out for the Board.”

“Mr. Z, did you hear about what happened in the second period?”

Bitty watched pleased, as the girls all tried to tell Jack about the game at once, their captain finally shushing them to a chorus of giggles and taking over the storytelling. 

He wasn’t sure Jack had ever really enjoyed hockey in high school, with all the pressures and anxieties and press. So it was good for him to see how relaxed the students were, how joyful and proud. This was something the other man could carry into his own games, maybe.

By close to the 7:00 closing time, parents had started arriving to collect the girls. And by this time, there were some drooping shoulders and yawns, all the adrenaline and sugar wearing off rapidly. One or two parents bought last minute desserts for later and then the bakery was quiet.

“Ooof.” Bitty’s voice was muffled in Jack’s chest where he had just sort of fallen forward in exhaustion. “Long day, but I’m so glad the girls won that championship.”

“Me, too,” Jack murmured back, his baritone voice vibrating through Bitty’s head in a pleasant sort of buzz. “And I am also glad that they consider you part of this neighborhood. It’s rather an honor that they include me.”

“Aw, they idolize you, honey. You still thinking about coaching some day?”

“I’ve done it before, and yeah.” He ruffled one big hand through Bitty’s hair. “There’s something wonderful about working with kids. They don’t judge. Their only expectation of me is to help them learn how to play, how to be a team. And I’m glad those girls get to be part of something.”

Bitty nodded, moving his head to rest against Jack’s shoulder now. “Well, I saw you back at the start of the season, when they lost that game and Trish was so upset when they came in. You just pulled her aside and talked with her and made her feel more confident. You’re good at that, sweetheart.”

Another yawn, this time from Bitty, and he pulled his apron off and dumped into the linens bin in the corner. “Home. Let me just put the last few things away.”

“I can help. Got your back here, too, even if we’re not on the ice together much anymore.”

Bitty felt his tired face smiling in automatic answer to that. This boy. “I know you do, Captain.”

“Always, _mon coeur_.”


	5. Big Flavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner had a conference at which he was going to present his latest research. He brought a plus-one. Or two? Either way, they wanted a snack afterward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimers are at the start of the first chapter. School year is starting for my district, so chapters will come a bit more spaced apart. (at least 4 more of them)

4.

_In the photo, a man with disheveled curls is talking to someone. His hands are a bit blurred as he is clearly explaining something both with spoken words and excited gestures. The blonde man he’s speaking to with such animation sits with his chin resting in one hand, smiling fondly._

“…and I don’t know if this idea…I mean, both the helicase and polymerase…”

“Bruce,” Steve interjected gently into the stream of scientific language coming out of his friend, “I may have a photographic memory, and you and Tony know that I learn fast, but you need to give me a little more…”

“Plain English? Sorry.” With a wry chuckle, Bruce Banner stopped his explanation of the debate that had followed his conference presentation. “I think I am way too used to hanging around with Tony and Clint.”

Bitty came over to their table to check if they needed anything and refilled the coffee cups at Steve’s nod. “I used to have that problem in college, Steve. Ransom…Justin, one of my teammates, was pre-med. I learned to nod in all the right places when he tried to explain why he was frustrated with something in a science class.”

Both of his visitors laughed. “The rest of us who aren’t in the…what does Tony call it, the “Geek Squad”,” Steve explained. “We have to make sure they all remember to eat and sleep enough to survive.”

Snorting, Bitty leaned one hip against Steve’s chair. “Sounds familiar. I’m not sure how the boys in the hockey Haus managed to get any food or nutrition until I moved in, honestly.”

“Oh, let me guess.” Bruce’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Pizza, trips to the cafeteria, instant ramen packets, the occasional food delivery? I do have a few college degrees and I remember how it goes.”

“Well, the two who’re in the NHL now, they have nutritionists and all. I have strict orders to wait for cheat days to do any deliveries, or the off-season.” Bitty finally pulled an extra chair over and flopped down with relief. “Ugh. I had the early shift. I swear to y’all, I don’t know if it takes more stamina to be a hockey player, a figure skater, or a head baker.”

“Well, this pie is certainly better than what the conference had.” Steve popped a bit of his pie into his mouth.

“So, I heard a lot of complicated words. Did you give a presentation, then, Dr. Banner?” Bitty asked, curious.

“Call me Bruce, please. Yeah. I had some new research results to share. It’s not…I don’t always like to go to these, but it was important.”

Steve gestured with his fork. “Important, yes…it could save lives, Bruce. There were so many things we couldn’t fix when I was young. You’ve both probably read about how sick I was as a kid, and so much of what nearly killed me is not a death sentence anymore.”

Leaning his head on one hand, Bitty smiled at Steve’s pride in his friend and fellow Avenger. “I’m glad you shared your research, then. But that isn’t really your usual thing, Steve.”

The other man raised an eyebrow at Bruce in question. “May I…?”

Bruce ducked his head a little, a red flush on his cheeks, and fidgeted with his silverware. “Yeah.”

“Bruce asked me to go because he was worried that someone would try to bring out Hulk in public. He just felt safer if he had some backup.” Steve nudged Bruce’s arm gently. “Which he didn’t end up needing even when there was some serious arguing going on after.” 

Bitty didn’t speak, but both other men must have noticed the light increase in tension of his hand on the table edge. 

“Bitty, you don’t need to worry about me.” Bruce said with a sad little smile. “I have him pretty much under control most of the time. He likes your pastries, by the way.”

Relaxing his hand deliberately, Bitty leaned forward, fascinated but also not wanting Bruce to feel unwanted. “Hulk…he likes them?”

“We do share a body.”

Steve snickered into the last bite of his piece of pie. “He’s not kidding about that, really. Tony had to use his credit card once after a battle to pay for most of a cart of gelato, because Hulk decided he really liked it. Wanted more than a fraction of a mouthful, I guess.”

“Well, Bruce, you can tell him that if you give me some warning one day, I can try to make enough to give him a mouthful. Can’t be worse than a whole hockey team…”


	6. Cookie Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve brings Natasha along this time. Jack brought Alexei. Conversations are had over tea and Russian pastries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't expect Tater. I was starting this scene and he showed up for the cookies, apparently, and stayed to meet new friends, and kept his talk with Nat private. Someone asked me if Shitty would meet Natasha, but I got a tall, Russian instead of a Harvard Law student. Note: I sort of assume in my own headcanon that Jack is captain by this point...
> 
> All characters in this chapter belong to Marvel and Ngozi. I am merely borrowing them and will make not a penny of profit aside from any kudos and comments...

_A photo is tucked into the corner of the corkboard. Centered in the middle of it is a man’s large hand (covered in small cuts and bruises), pouring tea from a delicately painted teapot into a porcelain cup held by a much smaller hand (with polished nails and knuckles also covered with scrapes and cuts)._

“Here you go, boys.” Bitty brought the plate and the tea tray over to their little table, the steam rising from the teapot curling up to tickle his nose. “Proper Russian with your proper Russian-style tea. I hope you enjoy it. Я надеюсь тебе понравится.”

Jack grinned as Tater reached for the plate before Bitty had even set it down on the table. “A little excited, Tater?” 

The Russian hockey player pretended to ignore him, managing to get a hold of at least three of the cookies in one hand while Bitty was still setting the cups down. “Waiting all week. And you say Russian words right way, Bitty. Is nice to hear.”

“Russian figure skating coach, remember? Sometimes she scolded me as much for my pronunciation as my jumps. Anyway, Jack said you were feeling a little homesick lately, and I had this recipe…” Bitty leaned against Jack’s shoulder. He was glad to see their friend’s face lit up with delight. 

“I’ll assume that whatever you just muttered through that mouthful of cookies was a compliment to the baker. Are you leaving me any?” Laughing, Jack reached across to grab a cookie with one hand and snagged Bitty’s hand firmly in the other.

Tater picked up his tea after licking the glaze from his fingers. “Mine, Zimbonni. You have baker, I have cookies. You get any time you want. He make more later, yes?”

“Alexei, this is a bakery, or did you forget where you were? Too many hits in the last game?” Jack chirped. “And as your captain, I can say that yes, I have a dangerous supply line. More sprints tomorrow for both of us.” 

Bitty kissed the top of Jack’s head and hip-checked him gently, smirking at Alexei’s groan at the thought of early morning sprints. “That I don’t miss. I’d like to eat a couple of them myself at some point, but these are for you two. I had to save this plate for y’all, though. One of the most popular things we sold during the morning rush.” 

The little bell on the front door of the bakery jingled, and they all looked up to see Steve Rogers coming in. He had someone with him, a redheaded woman who moved with the sort of specialized muscle control and grace that Bitty identified as being from dance or martial arts training.

“Hey, guys.” The captain of the Avengers walked up to their table to greet the Falconers’ captain. “Good to see you, Jack. Hey Bitty.”

“Steve Rogers, this is Alexei Mashkov, one of my teammates on the Falconers, and a good friend.”

Tater shook his head, even as he reached over to shake the man’s hand. “Jack say he know Avengers. Sorry I not believe.”

“Hah! Well, I get that a lot. And I come here when I want to just be Steve, to be honest. I’ve watched a couple of your games – you make quite a team.” Steve put an arm around his companion and urged her forward. “Guys, this is Natasha." He nudged her shoulder with his arm. “I’ve been promising to bring her to visit the source of the treats I keep bringing back. We make a pretty good team, too.”

Bitty knew that all three of them had figured out the woman’s superhero identity as soon as the two had come in, but he could see that she was a bit nervous. “Always nice to meet Steve’s friends. I’ll go get y’all some more tea and _priyaniki_ , I think.”

Natasha’s eyebrows rose with surprise. “ _Priyaniki?”_

“Like I just reminded Alexei here, I trained with a Russian skating coach for quite a while. She taught me about more than skating.” 

“Well, your accent is pretty good, too. I can tell your teacher was from Moscow.” She smiled a little at Bitty. 

“In Russian, anyway, his accent is pretty good. Not so much in French,” Jack commented and then ducked Bitty’s not-very-serious swat. 

“Chirp me later, you bilingual menace, when I’m off the clock.” Bitty rolled his eyes at this long-standing tease. “It’s not my fault I can’t get rid of my Madison, Georgia accent when I try to speak French, honey.” 

As he let go of Jack’s hand and went back to the display case to get some more cookies and ask Francis to make a second pot of Russian-style tea, he could hear Natasha somewhat incredulous voice. “Tater?” 

And then Jack’s chuckle. “You guys get superhero names, Black Widow and Captain America, and we get hockey names. Mashkov, which sort of, well, ‘mashed potatoes’, to Tater Tot, to Tater. Eric’s is Bitty or Bits, from back when we played together on the same team in college, since his last name is Bittle and well, he’s not a large person. Eric, _mon coeur_ , I saw that eye-roll. Hell, my defensemen for a couple of years at Samwell were called Ransom and Holster, and another teammate goes by Shitty. You can check the internet for my dad – he was “Bad Bob”. Tell her mine, Tater, since you came up with it.” 

The man’s exuberant laugh rang through the bakers, causing a few other patrons to glance over either in familiar amusement or annoyance. “I call him Zimmboni – the zamboni machine that make good ice for skate and name, Zimmermann. Tried four, five other names, they not sound right. No good until that one.” 

“He’s so proud.” Jack said dryly. Bitty shook his head, listening as he added a few more cookies to the plate (including one of the chocolate ones Steve had practically inhaled on his last visit). 

‘You are Russian, too, yes?” Tater was asking Natasha as Bitty rejoined them. 

“I…was. A long time ago. You don’t know?” 

“Know hockey more, superhero stuff less. I’m little bit not know many things. I know fitting in is hard to do. Took me long time.” 

She looked at Alexei for a long moment, taking in his open, earnest expression and curious eyes. Then she clearly made a decision. “Is it all right if I just tell you? Privately? Russian or English, whichever seems easier. We can move one tray over there to the corner table." 

“That’ll be just fine. I’m sure these two can find something to talk about for a bit.” Bitty smiled at her in encouragement. 

Over the next hour, he bustled around his bakery, serving customers, supervising the folks in the back and front of the counter, and making sure things were going well. Steve looked thoughtful, not being subtle about his glances over at his friend and teammate, who was speaking quietly with the huge hockey player. 

Bitty knew Tater would be respectful and patient; he’d made a wonderful friend for the past few years to Jack, not just as a teammate. And Jack had confided quietly one night that Tater, along with Marty, were the two who had talked him down from a few anxiety attacks or just stayed with him, with no judgments and a lot of patience. 

After Alexei carefully poured the tea for Natasha (and Jack had snuck at least one photo without getting their faces in the frame), Steve visibly relaxed and ended up listening to hockey stories and answering a bunch of questions. Ever the history student even after college, Jack had a million questions about American sports in the 1920’s and ‘30’s. 

“I’m going to end up sitting in the Tower watching a game with you on Tony’s big screen tv, aren’t I?” Natasha said as she rejoined them in the middle of Steve’s animated description of a hockey game he once watched when he was a kid. "You and Clint and Bucky are going to be loud and obnoxious and talk through the whole thing." 

“You want tickets to come see Falconers' game, you tell me.” Tater said, sliding into the remaining empty chair. “Superheroes need good seats.” 

“Steve here likes sitting in the cheap seats. He says he doesn’t feel right yelling or swearing at the other team when he’s in the fancy seats or a box.” 

“Oh, ruining my pristine reputation, again, Nat?" Steve was clearly trying to keep a straight face and was failing horribly. 

"Well then, he should sit with our crew.” Bitty deftly snagged the empty plates and moved to hand them off to one of his employees. “I’d say he might blush at what they say, but he was in the military, and they’re as bad as athletes when it comes to, er, colorful language.” 

“We have to get back soon…there’s a meeting early tomorrow. Good to see you both, and nice to meet you, Tater.” Steve stood and clapped him carefully on the shoulder. 

“Thank you. For the cookies and tea, and the company.” Natasha’s voice was hesitant but sounded pleased, which made Bitty glad. Tater leaned over to whisper something to her and she laughed. 

“Well, come on back any time, y’all. I packed up your order. Steve, tell Bucky I put some of his favorite in there, and would you mind asking Bruce about sending that recipe he told me about last time he visited?” 


End file.
